Perplexings : Baby Blue Samsonite ( Sammy ) and introducing …


FLASH ! … Meg , where are you ? … Please come home – the tent nearly lifted into the sky the other night during that loud storm of rain and thunder and Eve and I started shaking and even your books tumbled off Eves shelf when those coyotes howled so near by . And something very strange has happened here , not only has Cindy our nice neighbor in the woods stopped playing that tango music causing 3 of Eves legs to become stiff from not practicing with only one leg tapping constantly an annoying rhythm from being so off balance … but Meg , someone new has entered the tent ! When you ran out so quickly Sunday morning you left the door unzipped and she blew in from the wind , and on top of it she was crying , her tiny voice sounding like a kazoo , and all wet and cold with her little self dripping water droplets on your Mexican rug . She looked so lost , lost like a dropped handkerchief in a dark movie theater . ( I know I just stole that sentence from that story you’re writing – you know , the one about the boat ! ) Actually , it kind of feels like you’ve abandoned us on a raft to go sailing with those other characters … Don’t get me wrong , I really do accept that you just must keep writing , after all , it’s who you are now ! We see that your writing days are like a constant birthday party with lighted candles and plates full of smiles – lol – Eve wants you to know that she composed that last sentence .


Anyway , back to our little stow a way . As I was drying her , she’s very sweet , our new guest , I noticed her small name tag nearly torn off on her back collar – Nanette . She might be French , which is good for you since we’ve observed your recent correspondence with Hariod ( the Englishman who leaves those nice red hearts and music videos ) and how he posts comments in French and you try to figure it all out . Anyway , Nanette is so very adorable once dried out , with tiny stitching in red , green and yellow stripes . We’ve never seen anything like her ! She must have a love of puppets as Punch and Judy are stitched on her front like a quilted cartoon . She hasn’t told us much with all her whimpering , just wanting to be held – so I open up and invite her in . I feel her comfort once inside where I know she feels safe and warm against my silk lining – I can hear her playing in the inner pocket with your charm necklace from that lover I told you to forget about . She likes its tinkling sound , sort of like a rattle to her . I think she’s only a baby and Eve and I feel very tenderly towards her . Eve’s even trying ( note , trying ) to sing some lullabies .


But Meg , we really need you back so tonight if your still gone , I’m sending you over another dream – don’t be scared – it will be about coyotes so that you will act on coming back for us . I know how you love those kissing dreams , but this one will help you rescue us , you can kiss later !

note on those coyotes : I know you left early that day because of them , howling in a pack like lunatics in the dark night . I do want to help you . We over heard someone walking by the other day , ” that weird hippie woman is now living in a rented room at old Mr. Thatchers “. Eve and I made some noise so they wouldn’t peek in with all their curiosities about you . Yes , we protect you dear Meg ! Ok , back to those coyotes …


There re is a reason for your fear . It has to do with the power of symbols , yes , symbols and those coyotes are on your animal totem !( Wakan Tanka told us ) . The depth of your personality is even deeper than you think . The ability of our minds to associate external symbols with internal suffering is remarkable . So you can’t ignore those coyotes and their shadows that scare you and the way they haunt your mysterious affliction . All will be well , Meg – just come back and get us !

p.s. Someone will have to carry Eve ( maybe your brother , Dave , who really doesn’t believe we can possibly exist with human characteristics ) … She won’t make it down the street on her 4 legs being so trippy lately .

p.s.s. Get rid of that over-sized mans shirt and hat you threw on the last time I saw you ! You can’t manifest Charlie Chaplin but with those vintage dresses you have , you could possibly be Marilyn Monroe . ( I still can’t figure out how to make those little heart symbols … You will just have to imagine one right here .


Eve ve wants you to publish this quote ( she’s becoming a bit overconfident with book knowledge – please talk to her about this ) .

” When we were children , we use to think that when we’re grown – up we would no longer be vulnerable . But to grow up is to accept vulnerability … To be alive is to be vulnerable . ”

Madeleine L Engle


Beatitude Point # 7


“Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven “. . . Matthew 5:1

He is driven by a strange desire . Someone is calling . It could have been George Harrison – yes , from The Beatles , those ” long-hairs ” this middle age man detests – it could have been George with his guitar , his tune dropped on Dave’s dad from the clouds above Charlevoix that might have drifted like a paper boat from across the Atlantic .

While My Guitar Gently Weeps

I look at you all see the love there that’s sleeping

While my guitar gently weeps

I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping

Still my guitar gently weeps .

I don’t know why nobody told you

How to unfold your love

I don’t know how someone controlled you

They bought and sold you .

I look at the world and I notice it’s turning

While my guitar gently weeps

Every mistake , we must surely be learning

Still my guitar gently weeps .

I don’t know how you were diverted

You were perverted too

I don’t know how you were inverted

No one alerted you

I look at you all , see the love there that’s sleeping

While my guitar gently weeps

I look at you all

Still my guitar gently weeps .


Here lays the port of Charlevoix , named after a French explorer who stayed one night during a harsh storm.

Charlevoix , where fossilized corals from the abyss have been rounded into pebbles by rivers and seas . Here Dave Sr. stands on the dock , stands looking out at the Great Lake , stands tired after driving his car for eight hours , stands in his shiny wing tips , rakish in appearance , a furniture salesman , standing small and often being mistake n as Italian with his dark angled face , large nose , black hair – the “bad-boy” image still imprinted from his younger days . He stands like he once stood searching for planes while a private on a Navy ship during WW2 . Just the previous year in 1971 an air force plane had crashed right here in these waters during a practice bomb run , exploding on impact , nine crew men died .

Where is his son ? …his oldest son named not only after him but also his own father . He knows they have planned to pick up a spare part here for their boat . Who is this son now that he has left home , left the dinner table and the golf course they both love . He worries yet feels pride rising like a singular wave at this boys independence and courage . This is the paradox of having adult children , this is the pain and pleasure , the oldest daughter , the one he doesn’t understand but who owns his heart , just married , pregnant with his first grandchild … his other son a “screw-up” with no job , lazy attitude , sleeping till noon … And then the joy of his ” late-in-life” little angel girl , a gentle resettling .

He stands with a head ache , loud like the sea singing hallelujah , memories annoying his mind , memories of the party the night before the boys left . He stands and hours pass , his gaze from sea to ground and he hangs his head and sighs , a slight tremble in his hands . A tremble like a mistake that won’t leave him troubles him , has troubled him for a long time . He thinks of his wife , still angry with him with a silence as cold as winter rain . Lost in anger , lost like a dropped handkerchief in a dark movie theatre , she has forgotten the attraction of their first meeting , his being the same age as their son is now . They met at the roller rink , her looking like his favorite actress , Lee Remick . He was wild , she was calm . But now she is weeping behind their bedroom door over his bad behavior at last weeks party . The party she so carefully prepared for with an overly clean house , new tablecloth to match the draperies , appetizers ordered from the chef at the country club , good silverware polished and a new dress bought from that boutique downtown that makes her look like she belongs in that new movie , “Diamonds are Forever”. . . and music chosen , a surprise to him that she likes Diana Ross and the Supremes !


He stands , feeling his heart tumbling , tumbling like dice at the memory . He stands on this grey dock . Is that smoke he spots over the water … is that the devil ? He silently recites the Lords Prayer , the only one he ever says . He sits on the empty beach but the earth is a swelling ocean and he will find himself feeling seasick for many years .


Showing up three hours late , the guests already eating , the music playing , the girls in mini-skirts chatting like a group of hungry seagulls , he enters . “OK ” , he shouts , throwing his overcoat on the floor , his eyes glazed like a deep ocean shark from the earths belly . The room is silent , the room is embarrassed at this fathers humiliation . He is drunk , he is late for his sons Bon voyage and he is drunk . Many there are unaware of his affliction and the pastor from the church stands now , watching with compassion at this disease of this mans soul – this poverty of spirit . Heard like gale warnings from shore , Dave continues from the center of the room  , ” OK , OK everyone , if any of these boys make a phone call home , anyone of them , do not refuse their calls , do you all here me ” ? He smiles , smiles trying to seem agreeable . ” I don’t know how they are going to cook and eat , they are just boys and don’t know much “!

Buzz’ mom try’s to cover the awkwardness and responds , ” Buzz is a cook “!

“Well Evelyne , how does he know he’s a cook “!

” Because I taught him ” , she answers , dumbfounded .

Slowly the room begins to move at this fathers pain and weariness , the guests flowing with this new energy of kindness preparing to leave with well wishes for everyone . Something has been endangered tonight – some chose not to ponder this , but for those who do , their thoughts are sobering , just having witnessed a capsizing and hoping for the survival of their friends dignity . A sunken ship they pray will sail smooth and free again . This man , this father , this friend of theirs , an anxious character hiding behind a diving mask .


The words of Jesus and George Harrison merge from the heavens . Someone is calling . ” The age of the universe is about 13.75 billion years . The diameter of the observable universe is estimated at about 28 billion parsecs ( 93 billion light years ) as a reminder , a light year is a unit of length equal to about 6 trillion miles )”


Chris’ Journal … Thursday , 9-21-1972

I awoke at 9:00 am and proceeded to relieve myself and do what I could for a throbbing head ache , in that order . I returned from the head to find all hands still sacked out so I too returned to that unconscious bliss . Dave woke me up again at 10:30 looking for a key . For lunch and breakfast we ate the hamburger left over from Glen Arbor , the previous nights supper .

It’s  only a buck seventy-five a night here and Dale put down five bucks figuring through Saturday . Dave bought an ice fishing pole in Manistee and a combination perch and coho pole here in Charlevoix . We found a man at the Fairport radio repair shop to install channels 12 and 14 for the locks at his suggestion . The Irish Mariner will take our boat out of the water and the owner can help us with charts , spare water pump , spinnaker block , spinnaker halyard , sea cock and the installation of the sum log . We also purchased the Great Lakes Pilot , a ships log and a shackle for our new anchor . We still haven’t a light list , but no one else seems to have one either . We’ll probably drop a couple hundred here , but then will really be set . We changed our course again . Instead of sailing across Lake Huron , we’re going to take a longer but more beautiful cruise through the Canadian Northern Passage .

Another sailboat bound for Florida has been watching our progress as we have been watching theirs . They were surprised to see us in Charlevoix ahead of them since they had assumed we didn’t sail Wednesday . There were gale warnings out that we didn’t know about since our radio has no working frequencies . This I found very sobering . Thankfully we will have the channels we need when we leave here .

Dave’s dad showed up here today , taking us by surprise and out to a great dinner . He seemed happy with our seemingly self-sufficient responsibility and resourcefulness . We told him Dave was quitting his smoking and that pleased him no end .

Tomorrow at about nine we’ll have the boat out of the water and we plan on working on it all day . In some introspective self-criticism , I decided I could make life in our confined space more livable with a more amiable attitude . So I’ll be working toward that goal from now on . I hope I’ll be successful . We seem to live together well and everyone is fairly easy going . Everyone had a turn at sailing in high winds yesterday and we all have gained in confidence . If all goes well tomorrow , we’ll leave for Mackinaw Saturday . The winds are high at this hour , 10:30 pm , and cool .

Yesterday we sailed through a bridge that opened for us on signal , one long blast and one short . Our horn sounds sick .

Daves dad said Glen V.O. didn’t believe we could make it from Sleeping Bear Bay to Charlevoix in one day . That made us feel great . I guess we will have a very long run Saturday ; around 80 miles . I really think we are doing alright . I’ll have to write home and Mary soon .

We may have a traveling companion in that blue striped sailboat I wrote of earlier . I guess we’ve got a fairly appealing route . Boy , am I beat again . There are a lot of ducks here .


Dave recieves the following letter at a future port :

” I wrote to you in the other letter about Dad and how sorry he was about that night and hoped he talked with you , so I hope you have forgiven him … keep praying for him and all of us . Love , mom ”

… and folded inside this : ” If it stays this cold (38) tonight , looks like the end of golf for the year . Great you quit smoking . Get a haircut , shave , clean your ears , don’t wear flair pants .   Dad “

Poetry Love Crown . . . The Vagabond


Photo by Federica Erra

” How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young , compassionate with the aged , sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong . Because someday in your life you will have been all of those “. – George Washington Carver


The Vagabond

the vagabond shyly knocking on my mind

stands crooked on the horizon line

brutal mystery mists behind

this back-up man sings this time .

the vagabond , his dog shakes with fears

held tight by heavy twine and tears .

I see the pain , a bloody knife

a wound of odor dims their life .

This grizzly starless night

mute upon the earth of light .

his face still pounding on my mind

ruin is beautiful is only kind .

no judgements , no math , no rules

leave that for the preacher over the hill

the vagabond blurring dirty cold rain to kill

diluted by a song only warms the chill .


” In the forest of illusions . . . the only reliable compass is ones soul .”  –  Enza Currenti

Perplexings Again : Baby Blue Samsonite ( aka , Sammy ) , guest blogger



Flash : Meg finally got my urgent message ! … Thanks to you dear Janet ( here’s a photo of you )




I watched months ago as Meg sold and dissembled her whole house like a carpenter destroying an old kitchen to build new cabinets . She saved only her favorite things to fit in her tent ( lucky for me ! ) She disappears a lot : on that bike of hers doing some photo series on places where no one is or going to that coffee shop I can’t pronounce ( Leelanau ) to write . Someone asked her the other day , ” are you a lawyer “? because she writes on a legal pad . I lol when I heard that one cause if you could see her , no one looks less  like a lawyer than Meg ! ( FYI – I overhear all conversations that take place in tent ).






“It is a very good thing you have done for me since moving into our tent Meg . Thank-you from my heart , you know , the stone heart you found on the beach that very first day , the smooth heart shaped stone , the one you painted bright red and placed inside , inside my satin elastic-topped pouch – that same pouch where your favorite necklace is , you know the one , that silver chain filled with charms from that lover you never let go of , that one from 3 years ago who is married now . You might want to finally let go now even though I wonder what would happen to the love poetry you write ? My heart seems to be growing and it’s a-bit crowded in here !




” And Meg , thank-you for finding Eve – that once old broken table from the side of the road – saved now from destruction and oblivion . That’s why I love you so much Meg , even with all your quirkiness . ( I overheard that one too !) . And in discovering she even had a name was brilliant of you – the way you decided to paint orange only on one wood slate like wearing a shiny pair of shoes with those old blue-jeans of yours , you know the ones with all the holes that you even wear under your dresses . ( Funny too , living in a tent and wearing gorgeous dresses !). . . And then her name came thru – Eve – , you gave me a friend , Eve ! She’s doing better now , all those beautiful objects placed upon her has given her a beautiful mind , rich in diversity and knowledge and confidence too . Her voice is losing that squeaky soft sound and is clear  like the wide blue sky . It took awhile but now she’s even quoting from your poetry books , ” give me the splendid silent sun , with all his beams full dazzling ”




” Eve asked me to remind you that your mirror is inside the wooden spice box from Afghanistan and to tell you , because , you always leave with a smudge above your lip from that “silver city pink ” lipstick . That tube is always up to tricky tricks ! ( not to tattle tale or anything ) . Eve and I are curious about your sleeping dreams – Yes , we both see them too ! We discuss their meaning as soon as you rush out to that coffee shop in the morning . ( warning : your bike basket is about to break from all the books and papers you travel with ). Those kissing dreams are the best , you know the ones , those very lucid ones that make you awake with a smile . Eve thinks they symbolize harmony , love , and contentment ( see , I told you she’s getting awful smart !) . And those egg dreams , the ones where the yolk is so yellow , brighter than the suns , joy , pure joy in your life ! Believe me , we feel this from you , rebirth , creative potential , the power of imagination are all yours from those eggs !




” Anyway , Meg , Eve and I ( I like that sound of that ) , Eve and I want you to know how happy we are living with you together in our tent … Thankyou ! Below is our address if anyone wants to send a letter ( Eve and I don’t understand the ipad and find it rather scary ).

Meg , Sammy and Eve

0 Western ave. in the woods

Glen Arbor , Michigan




P.s. Thanks for leaving us those Hershey kisses you are always looking for ! Oh , and thank Cindy from across the way for playing her music so loud , Eve is learning the tango ! Imagine !  Oh , and one more thing ( don’t know just when you’ll let me guest blog again once you get back on the ” Venture ” and Beatitude Point that you’re so obsessed with ) … Try not to order any more of that peanut butter and jelly pizza from Bear Paws . You’re really not a kid anymore ! Oh , almost forgot , the doll from the orient is asking for some Chinese food .

P.s.s. Almost forgot , would you please carry Eve outside today , she wants to experience Walt Whitman .



Sunday Interlude



” And when you do find out what one corner of your vision is , you’re off and running . And it really is like running . It always reminds me of the last lines of “Rabbit Run ” ; … ” his heels hitting heavily on the pavement at first but with an effortless gathering out of a kind of sweet panic growing lighter and quicker and quieter , he runs . Ah : runs , Runs “.    Anne Lamont – ” Bird by Bird ”



Before taking a rest from off the deck of the “Venture” , from sea to land , I raise a bright and glorious flag of gratitude to each of you who have so kindly joined me and encouraged me unknowingly thru thunder and lightning :

To Mathew from Poland , Tony the Great Britain photographer , the plane model builder from Indiana , Jacke the writer from Washington D.C. , Christine from San Diego , Gapfrab from Portland , Freddie the amazing London photographer , Tatiana and her fashion photos , Feqeeha the artist and writer from Pakistan , Alex and Cruz comic animators , John a young storyteller , Andrea who loves cooking and posts recipes , Amanda a young mother , writer , photographer , Alex the artist from Russia , Chris from Laos a traveler and musician , Kerri the writer from North Carolina , Luther the teacher and writer of science fiction , Stormy the sailor , Amir from Egypt , M.Funk with beautiful photos from France , Daniel the world traveler , Veronika a photographer from Germany , Yelling Rosa from Finland , poet and musician , Oscar the thought provoking Native American writer from Oklahoma , Mark the oil painter from Manchester , Andy the grandfather , the twin sisters from the Netherlands , bloggers and full time dreamers , Abigail the former professional tennis player turned writer of travel and fashion , Arman from Bangladesh , my first follower, and Heriod from England who writes about human well-being and sends the most beautiful messages with a heart attached …Also Thankyou to my 10 Facebook followers who have been along with me from the beginning in December 2013 , especially dear Janet , and too , my various Facebook friends , my daughters and sons ,my brother and sister , my cousins … I am raising this flag to all of you for entering my door  , Thankyou so much… You are Beautiful !


I’m going to take a rest now and will continue with Beatitude Point on Thursdays .

P.s. Baby Blue Samsonite , aka Sammy , has been bothering me to stop ignoring her and let her be a guest blogger again ! … Janet , she heard your message !



Beatitude Point … ( # 6 ) …




Wednesday , 9-20-1972 , Chris’ journal


Once again that verbally abused box woke us at 5:30 . I was up first at 6 a.m. The alarm went off , but Buzz continued to sleep . Dale screamed , “Buzzy” and I leaned over and prodded him simultaneously . Buzz jumped , hit his head on the cabin wall and finally said something about getting up , but fell back to sleep when I produced some lame excuse about it being too rough outside . Finally things began to happen . I threw the cushions out into the cockpit , opened the blower port , pumped out the bilge , took photos of the boat from the dingy and took down the cockpit flyer ; all before a breakfast nobody liked . It was instant oatmeal , instant coffee and a ration of bacon this morning . After breakfast Dale and I washed the dishes and then I accompanied Buzz and Dave to a Standard station rest room . On our return we found the genie sheets out and Dale working on the gear shifter . He found the adjustment device , but lacked the necessary tools to complete the repair . While the other two busied themselves within the cabin , Dave and I stowed the small genie and rigged the jib . We weighed anchor at 8 o’clock and sailed out of the harbor called Sleeping Bear  . We had another traumatic experience with overloaded sails before we left Sleeping Bear . We seem to have found the solution in letting the sails out , spilling the wind . For this contribution to our collective knowledge we thank Dale . I freely admit my fear of the knockdown situation and find myself unable to relax ; something to overcome . We are making great time ; probably around 6 knots . We should make Charlevoix by 4:30 p.m , then showers and supper shortly thereafter . And what a supper ! We decided to splurge since we would be here awhile ( till Saturday ). We were in high spirits so we hit the Between Decks Bar , consuming 4 or 5 pitchers of draft beer and having a high old time ! Wow !




It’s too late to turn back for Buzz too . Hoping to make it to Charlevoix by nightfall , he will party with his mates but feels like they need ” watching over “, often thinking they are immature in their risk taking behavior . He understands history , his major after his first year of college . The lake is calm and opens wide as he takes the helm navigating northwest with a sound knowledge about sailing unlike his crew .

His mind drifts like the white clouds shadow , a shadow of false tranquility  , a shadow smoking the clearness of the earths day as he worries about Dave’s possibility of being drafted with his low draft number of 36 . With his mind now crossing a continent under this shadow of history to the war that makes the earth a swelling and uncertain ocean causing seasickness for his generation , he is thoughtful . Somewhere , a captain tosses in bed , his comrades wet and waiting in the slime of the hot jungle terrain for the enemy to appear under the musky rain of Vietnam … surrounded by buried hearts in the piles of mud near the slow flowing river tributaries . He prays Dave never hears from the draft board .

” Buzz ? Are we on course “?

Buzz is brought back from his spell and the annoying moth that has been flying in a circle around him , invading his sleep last night while it searches for the moons light in order to fly straight , now invades the cabin . ” Get the fishing net ! … that moth won’t leave me alone “!  He knows this will make everyone laugh , being aware they think him a stern skipper !




He must remain cautious of the Ventures direction . The lack of trust in his crew mates sailing knowledge haunts him like a dripping faucet at the back of his mind where a vision of ” The Poseidon Adventure ” , being pushed to her limits , is hit by a tidal wave and sinks , sinks to the deep , sinking into oblivion on the screen of Buzz’s mind .

Feeling almost love for Chris , Dale and Dave , he is thankful for his escape to the sea from his mothers dominance in her house of only males . . . his dad silent , silent like the bored students his dad teaches .. .his younger and older brothers , rebellious of a females control in their male majority existence . He controls this ship now , but knows he had better be less bossy – it is not the time for that . His memory turns back to his older brothers radio in the garage back home where he first heard the sound of rock music and the rhythm of the Byrds singing the hit , ” Turn , Turn , Turn ” . . .  Dave , Chris and Dale , his brothers now . . .

” To everything , turn , turn ,turn

There is a season , turn ,turn , turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven “.

He sites the lighthouse of Charlevoix , his reading of the charts perfect , the grey skeletal tower like the far away tower across Gods earth looming like that moth over Danang Port in Nam Djnh Province of Vietnam .

” Land mates , perhaps a bar “!

The seagulls , the flying insects , the jumping fish – all into the sky – the eye of the underwater squid awaits them in the yet distant reef off Florida where a world of hallucination exists – too late to turn back now …



Beatitude Point … ( # 5 ) …


” You’re the strangest person I ever met she said and I said you too and we decided we’d known each other a long time “.



Tuesday , 9-19-1972 , Chris’ journal


The alarm was set for 5:30 and we got up at six to discover a fine offshore breeze , east , shifting to southeast later in the day . A remarkable breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon really set the world straight . Dave and Dale woke with a heavy dew soaking their bags . Dale looked completely miserable ; he got in around 3:30 a.m. We cleaned up the cabin and cast off with amazing proficiency . The stiff easterly breeze pulled us along handsomely as we left Manistee at 7:00 a.m.



Last night I had found out from a neighbor on board the ” A-lur-ing ” who in town could help us with our radio problem . So I called a Mr. Bob Cederhouse who told me the part would have to be ordered . We didn’t want to stay in Manistee for the rest of the week so he suggested Fairport in Charlevoix .  Dale hadn’t gotten around to fixing the gear shift yet , so we still have troubles with it . Just as we were crossing the mouth of the Platte River , the wind increased in speed and three times I was obliged to turn into the wind ; the third time almost being knocked down . We called all hands , Dave and Dale being below , to take down the small genie . Buzz suggested I jibe to come about but failed to loosen the small genie sheet which almost caused another knockdown . By the time he finally loosed the sheet , Dave and Dale were pulling down the small genie while the boat bucked on two to three foot seas . Holding it into the wind , the sail was secured and we turned on the engine in order to come about . Another sailboat , also bound for Florida , had been sailing under power with her main up . She took her main down and headed for the Platte River mouth . Around 9:30 a.m. We took down our main and powered through a grey morning . ( later that day we discovered it was Arcadia , not the Platte ). I took a nap shortly thereafter and woke up in Frankfort . We began sailing again off Point Betsie .


We anchored in Sleeping Bear Bay , out first anchorage , and ate grilled hamburgers ashore . We cut our three-hundred-foot anchor line into three one-hundred-foot lengths , and whipped the ends above while Dave and Dale went fishing in the dinghy . Everyone is tired ; Dave is meeting Kristy Z. on shore and I’m going to sleep outside . Buzz is plotting the course for Charlevoix . We heard the registrations on the way . We’re missing the charts for Huron and Georgian Bay . We are also in need of a light list , crystals for channel 12 or 14 and a pair of field glasses .


Sleeping Bear Bay : love interlude

She remembers him . His eyes clear , he doesn’t hide , she likes him , she remembers him from the Glen Lake church both their families attend in the summer . She is surprised at his bold phone call , they’ve never spoken before . She now walks toward the fire on the beach , he stands alone , his hair still wavy thick and long with a look intense and youthful . So much has yet to happen .

” Hey Kristie “! He yells as she approaches , hoping she doesn’t notice the little struggle in his throat .

Kristie is gazing about as she approaches close now and with the wind diagnosing her hair , releasing in front of him a sweet scent of perfume as she raises her arms to put her sweatshirt hood up .

” Here … I brought a blanket to sit on “. She sits , her long bare legs glistening from the firelight as she pulls her skirt over them  . The shoreline waves break and retreat .

” Is that your boat ?” , looking out at the moon lit bay .

” Yeh , and the dinghy here on the beach “.

” Where did you call me from “?

” I walked into town to the Standard Gas Station “, Dave responds remembering the neon sign on Glen Arbors deserted Main Street . And as they slowly begin to talk there exists suddenly a consoling rhythm to their words as if the earth was new once more and the sea comforting , and hours drift by and tranquility and excitement merge at the ease of their conversation , the eastward orbit of the earth propelling them towards the night at a faithful one thousand miles an hour . They embrace , the kiss enticing . She will always remember him and this horizon , a horizon indistinct with possibilities .

The morning is about to dawn .

” Kristie ? … write me “.

” Yes Dave , yes “.

The dinghy is loosing it’s hold on the deserted beach , the surf howls it’s laughter across the smooth stones and they wave , Dave and Kristie , they smile , they wave again , they hope .


Dave climbs aboard the ” Venture ” , his mates asleep , he hears music wafting in the twilight zone on the new morn breeze crowded with flying seagulls …music from Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose , …

” Too Late To Turn Back Now ”

I found myself wanting her

At least ten times a day

You know it’s so unusual for me

To carry on this way .


I’m telling you I can’t sleep at night

Wanting to hold her tight

I’ve tried so hard to convince myself

That this feeling just can’t be right

And I’m telling you .


It’s too late to turn back now

I believe , I believe , I believe , I’m falling in love

It’s too late to turn back now

I believe , I believe , I believe , I’m falling in love .


I wouldn’t mind it

If I knew she really loved me too

But I hate to think that I’m in love alone

And nothing that I can do .


Photo of girl with seagulls by Lara Zarkoul Photography